


Demonym

by EvilMuffins



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Breathplay, F/F, Friends With Benefits To Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-24 00:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: Words were no more her companions than her fellow Plegians had ever been, so why call upon them now of all times?Her lips were far better served elsewhere, after all.---A request for distraction soon becomes something more.
Relationships: My Unit | Reflet | Robin/Sallya | Tharja
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	Demonym

**Author's Note:**

  * For [runicmagitek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/gifts).

It was the look in Robin’s eyes. 

There were other things, of course. The curve of her breasts as she lay beneath Tharja, chest rising and falling with a grace that Tharja could taste in the air, like the crispness of a well-spoken hex. 

Robin’s soft gasps for air were an elixir that Tharja dearly wished to bottle alongside the most potent of her potions. 

But it was the look in her eyes, heavily lidded and drunk on the promise of impending release, that took Tharja back to that night. Her hands fell from Robin’s throat.

After an eternity passed in the form of the question in her eyes, Robin reached upward, burying her hands into Tharja’s hair as if the answer were to be found amidst unwashed strands. 

“It’s alright,” Robin whispered, and the rasp in her voice settled deeply between Tharja’s thighs. “You weren’t hurting me, I promise.”

Tharja shook her head. “It’s nothing…”

Words were no more her companions than her fellow Plegians had ever been, so why call upon them now of all times?

Her lips were far better served elsewhere, after all.

Robin still tasted of the potion.

It was her imagination, surely. It had been days since Robin had downed it in one go, as eagerly as she drank in Tharja’s lips in the present. 

It all made sense to Tharja, really. What with leading the movements of an entire army, of course Robin might have a need to relinquish control while safely in the privacy of her own tent late into the night. Tharja had had misgivings at first, after Robin had shyly broached the subject. If Tharja was to be perfectly honest with herself, maybe she was a stalker after all. Even so, she would rather die than hurt Robin.

Their nights spent tangled together in Robin’s narrow cot--careless of tipping the stacks of books situated all around it like a fortress of playing cards begging to be tipped--had been nothing more than a release for Robin. It was an arrangement that Tharja could be content with, so long as it meant being close to her. The tactician’s mind was on the war, and Tharja was far from foolish enough to think that the affections of a single Plegian defector were of more import than the efforts of the entirety of the Shepherds. The request for things to progress into something rougher came not too long after. Of course there were lingering fears of injuring Robin, but the sensation of her hands firmly encircling Robin’s warm neck soon won out. Being allowed to touch even an inch of Robin’s muscular body felt to Tharja as if she had won the entire war on her own each and every time. 

“Is this because of that one time with the potion?” Robin pulled back abruptly, allowing her head to flop backward onto the pillow. She always was one to interrupt an intimate moment in order to blurt out a sudden thought or two. It was quite charming, even if Tharja had had to eventually finish things off herself when Robin had spent the rest of the night scribbling battle tactics in her notebook a few weeks ago. 

Tharja frowned, uncertain how to respond. She didn’t wish to lie to Robin, however she would hate to spoil the night either. Although she had long since ceased her ‘normal training’, Tharja did still come to realise that the more morose of her words could still bring down the mood at times. 

Even in the dim light of the single candle, Tharja could still sense the warmth of Robin’s smile. “I told you that it didn’t bother me at all. I thought it was funny, really.”

“Well it bothered me,” Tharja muttered finally, sliding off of Robin and groping on the ground for the blanket they had shed earlier in the night. Fishing it up, Tharja wrapped it around her bare shoulders before crossing the tent. A shiver soon found her there.

_ Gods, Robin probably thinks I’m mad at her now… _Tharja cringed. Perhaps she should have just stayed in Plegia, with nothing but the sand and her spells for company. True, there had been those in the Plegian army that she would gladly have strangled, but the sentiment behind it certainly would have been considerably different. Tharja briefly smirked to herself. 

A hand landed on Tharja’s shoulder, and it took everything she had to not turn around as Robin's arms wrapped round her. 

The love that had shone in Robin’s eyes after taking the potion… Tharja longed to see it again.

“Will you tell me why?” Robin urged. It wasn’t fair when she made use of her tactician voice in the bedroom. 

Tharja heaved a sigh.

It was true that she had brewed up a love potion in her spare time between battles. She would never be untruthful about that, for she had nothing to be ashamed of. Hexes of the heart were difficult to cast correctly, and Tharja took pride in the fact that she had learned to perfect them. However, creating the potion had been intended as nothing more than a release, like a poet writing a lament on love that was never to be shared. 

Robin hadn’t truly been meant to drink it. 

‘_ I thought it was a goblet of cider!’ _Robin had laughed afterward. For all the saliva that had passed between them in the proceeding months, Tharja supposed that she shouldn’t think it unusual for Robin to carelessly drink from the same vessel. Robin had been awake the entire night, after all, debating battle tactics with Chrom again and again, until the circles underneath of her eyes were the same shade as Chrom’s hair. 

But for a few brief moments after drinking it, Robin had loved her.

And then, of course, in an act that would have made her old professor back in magic school roll in his grave, Tharja reversed the hex. 

“I want you to love me.” The words fell from her mouth in a deadpan, as if she were requesting porridge at breakfast. 

“Tharja, turn around.”

_ Blast that commanding tone of her's… _

Robin stood before her, no blanket to cloak her form, sleek and muscular with the scars of war adorning her like the embossing on the cover of a book. 

“I came to you for _ this _ because I trust you. Because I do love you, Tharja.”

Tharja shook her head for Robin to stop, taking her hand by the wrist and instead leading her back toward the cot. She had heard all that she needed. The rest Robin could say without words, because Tharja’s hands would be around her throat. 

  
  
  



End file.
